Page 44 of White Room Virgin

“Oh, there’s nothing easier than that.” But when he saw my serious look, his smile disappeared, and he furrowed his brows thoughtfully. “Okay. Let me explain it like this: For me, they are two completely different things.”

“That sounds a little too easy to me,” I muttered, warming my hands on the teacup.

“Oh well. Three billion years ago, microorganisms didn’t care that God existed. They behaved as nature intended them to. Nature encompasses everything, and from its perspective, nothing is impossible. And so everything that is possible is natural. I find support in faith. Imagine how crazy the world around us would be if there were no order or hierarchies.”

“The world is crazy,” I interjected, feeling discouraged.

“Maybe, but as crazy as it may be, somehow everything has its justification.”

The way he said that made me perk up my ears. “What do you mean?”

Simon leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head. He grinned widely at me. “Let’s take the mouth, for example. Six hundred million years ago, it was a way for the first multicellular organisms to obtain food. But evolution didn’t stop there, because what we do with it today is amazing, isn’t it? We communicate! Isn’t that crazy? But what’s not natural about that?” He looked at me with his arms outstretched.

I would have liked to answer him, but the image of Lucien and what he had done with his mouth appeared before my eyes. And it had felt so good. Just thinking about it made something move in my pants again and I avoided Simon’s gaze in shame.

He leaned forward. “My faith gives me the freedom to find meaning in all of this.”

I could understand that to some extent. But what Lucien saw in blowing me was beyond my imagination. And I couldn’texplain the point of two men having fun with each other like that either. So none of this made any sense at all.

After all, I’m not gay.

20

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Jonah

Simon’s explanation had made sense to me, but that evening I lay on my bed brooding, staring at the ceiling and still wondering whether nature really didn’t care when two men kissed. Unfortunately, I had to admit that I hadn’t been as innocent with my tongue as I would have liked. What was the use if the basic concept of life—reproduction—was not guaranteed? And who in me was asking this question? The scientist or the believer? Confused, I rolled onto my side and heard Martin’s voice in my mind, saying,“Don’t worry.”

I screamed inside and tore at my hair.What must he have gone through to come to this conclusion?

Did he suddenly not care about anything? If he had been home I could have asked him, but he worked another night at the hospital as a patient sitter.

Lucien crept into my thoughts again. Tormented, I turned to the other side and cursed him. He was the one who had upset me so much in the first place. His mere presence led me to do things I hadn’t intended. And as irritated as I was to have met him at the matinee, I was glad I did.

He’s so … fragile.

Despite the dark aura that usually surrounded him like a protective cloak, something vulnerable about him awakened my protective instinct. Just the way he kept looking at me made me realize that something was going on deep inside him that he was trying to hide from me. And I was sure it was something that made him deeply sad.

Why do I care? Stop thinking these thoughts!

I would have loved to know what was going on in his head. If he had been home, I could have confronted him, which waslong overdue anyway after what happened in the kitchen. Maybe I would calm down a bit if I surrounded myself with his things. At least it was worth a try. Getting up, I sneaked over to Lucien’s room and hesitantly pushed the door open. To my surprise, it was ajar. The paper floor lamp in one corner was on, filling the room with dim light.

A sense of calm washed over me as I glanced at the photographs and posters adorning the walls. Stepping further into the room, I inhaled deeply, catching his scent lingering in the air. Without disturbing anything, I continued my exploration, observing the collection of records, stacks of drawing pads, art books neatly arranged on the shelf, and the array of brushes, paints, and other artistic tools meticulously displayed on the table.

Approaching the bed, I focused on the photos pinned on the wall above the lamp. There was Lucien with Steven, Steven with Marco, and Martin alongside a girl unfamiliar to me. Two particular photos caught my eye: one featured Lucien with the same young woman from the matinee, while the other depicted Lucien with a young man I couldn’t place. They stood against a sunset backdrop on a beach, lost in laughter and each other’s embrace. Lucien appeared strikingly different in the picture—his hair shorter, yes, but more notably, devoid of the gloom that seemed to envelop him now.

I carefully removed the photo from the wall, examining it closely. Inscribed on the back were the initialsP+L Vietnam, accompanied by a date from two and a half years ago. In the picture, P stood beside Lu, supporting him from both sides—one hand resting on his back, the other on his chest. Despite the broad grin captured in the image, there was an unmistakable tenderness and affection in the way P held and gazed at Lucien.

The image aggravated me, and it took some time to grasp why. Never during my time in the bar with Lucien had Iwitnessed such hearty laughter, revealing his gleaming white teeth.

All at once, I was overcome by a deep sadness. I sat down on the floor and leaned against the bed. Resting my chin on my knees, I became painfully aware I knew nothing about Lucien. I hadn’t even managed to ask him a single personal question. Everything I knew about him I had learned along the way. For example, I found out he couldn’t cook or that he only ate pureed tomatoes, leaving the larger pieces aside.

Lucien was certainly not a person who revealed much about himself, but I was convinced that if I had made more of an effort, I would have been able to deal with the situation better.

All of a sudden, the front door slammed shut. I flinched, startled.

Shit! Lu!

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